


to freedom and a new dawn

by thirteenblackbirds



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Screw Thales, mild angst?, set on an unspecified golden route, the lords interacting because that's so much of what i wanted out of the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirteenblackbirds/pseuds/thirteenblackbirds
Summary: An Emperor, a King, and a Duke walk into a bar.  Except there's no bar, only a campfire, and the only drink is whatever Claude is pouring out from his wineskin.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Edelgard von Hresvelg & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	to freedom and a new dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song 消愁 (Drowning Sorrows) by 毛不易 (Mao Buyi).

It feels more and more like they are fighting a losing battle. Those Who Slither in the Dark have the benefit of millennia of forbidden knowledge and the cover of stolen faces. (Thales had long shed Arundel's skin for another and try as they might, their intelligence units have not yet been able to discover which one. There is no shortage of missing and displaced person in war.) It is difficult (to say the least) to fight an enemy that persists in shadows while one's own forces are exposed in the light. Doubly so when the enemy can take on the appearance and characteristics of anyone and everyone. 

"Bullion for your thoughts."

She glances up at Claude and then sideways at Dimitri, looming behind him silently, the campfire throwing dancing shadows on both of their faces. Older and leaner after their many months on these campaigns. (Despite the constant shortage of supplies and exhaustion of a war of attrition, however, their eyes are less clouded these days.)

"They're hardly worth that much," she says, eyes back on Claude after exchanging a nod with her ... step-brother, she supposes is the most accurate term. They are both still getting used to that. Her eyes flicker away again, back to the wide swathe of darkness before them, the waning moon serving only to illuminate the hulking dark shapes of the mountains. The valley below has yet to see battle (in this war at least) but in her mind's eye, Edelgard sees other valleys like this one, black with blood and littered with broken bodies. Tomorrow, this valley may well join that mental gallery.

"Don't sell yourself short, princess. Ah, sorry, Emperor." Claude's voice cuts into her reveries as he drops down beside her and he must signal something to Dimitri as well, because she feels when he settles, less boisterously, somewhere behind her to the left. 

"Hubert is concerned."

She tilts her head back, looking instinctively toward her retainer's tent though she does not see his familiar silhouette framed against the fabric. "Hubert will carry forward. He is quite used to me giving him cause for concern by now," she says with a rueful quirk of her lips. 

From seemingly out of nowhere, Claude extracts a wineskin. "Well, if we're going to mope, we might as well do it properly and have a drink."

It doesn't look like he, or Dimitri, intend on leaving her alone. And she is not moping. "I'm not moping," she says, trying very hard not to sound defensive, as she adjusts her position so she is facing the fire and, incidentally, her new companions. (She's not sure whether she succeeds at the not-sounding-defensive part when Claude's teeth flash in amusement.)

Dimitri must be in on the drinking ploy, or he simply always carries around three carved cups with him, because he summons these from somewhere on his person and hands them wordlessly to Claude. This is starting to feel like a set-up.

Claude pours a milky liquid into each cup and hands one to each of them, filled to the brim, the sides wet with whatever is in his wineskin. It's definitely not wine and it smells strong.

She sees her skepticism mirrored on Dimitri's face as he stares into his cup. So, not a complete set-up then. Claude gives them both a mock-hurt look. "You can't not drink now that I've poured it out. This is high-grade stuff!"

"It's Almyran?" Edelgard hazards the guess, but it is the most likely provenance. She isn't aware of anything like this in the Leicester Alliance and, judging from Dimitri's reaction, it's not from Faerghus either.

Claude winks at her. "Bullseye. As expected of the esteemed Emperor." He cradles his own cup carefully in his hands, examining it. "You don't want to know what I had to promise Nader to get him to bring some of this in his last supplies run."

None of that has told her what exactly this is. She shares a look with Dimitri that is the equivalent of a mental shrug, surprised at how familiar and instinctive the gesture is a heartbeat after.

"What are we drinking to?" she asks. Since she's not moping and all.

Claude pretends to look thoughtful -- a convincing enough pantomime as he cocks his head to one side. "Good question. We shouldn't drink this without a proper toast. Dimitri, thoughts?"

"It's your wine, Claude. You should make the first toast." Dimitri sounds entirely serious and there's no hint of a smile on his lips, but Edelgard thinks she detects a faint vein of humour nonetheless. It's a pale shadow of the ready smile she remembers (now) from her childhood but it's better than the madness that haunted him for years. Haunts him still occasionally when they discuss Thales. Unconsciously, her shoulders relax a little more.

Claude seems slightly taken aback at the demurral, but he recovers swiftly. "Fair enough. Being able to drink this before battle is considered a great fortune in Almyra." He examines his cup before lifting it. "To yesterdays and tomorrows." There is no jest in his eyes or his voice. He pours an additional serving in a neat line on the ground in front of him before corking and stowing the wineskin. The three of them watch the liquid sink into the soil together in silence.

Dimitri acknowledges the passing of the baton once the last pale drops disappear. "To homelands, near and far." His good eye shines in the firelight. 

They both look at her expectantly. Edelgard thinks for a moment, then lifts her cup to meet theirs. "To freedom and a new dawn."

**Author's Note:**

> The drink they're having is some kind of fortified kumis (fermented, alcoholic mare's milk) traditional to the Central Asia steppes, from an as-of-yet unexplored headcanon I have for Claude's childhood (not the one he has in _no fool_ for any overlap readers).
> 
> Dipping a baby toe into writing Dimitri with this because I desperately want a golden route where they all gang up to curbstomp Thales together.


End file.
